


Tip of the Tongue

by PenguinxHero



Category: Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare
Genre: M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-04
Updated: 2013-02-04
Packaged: 2017-11-28 05:51:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/671014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PenguinxHero/pseuds/PenguinxHero
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"We do not remember days; we remember moments." - Cesare Pavese</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tip of the Tongue

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted over on fanfiction.net back in 2011. This story was inspired by the song "Polish Girl" by Neon Indian.

**~ Tip of the Tongue ~**

This is chaos, you think, as you lean back your head and inhale the scent of sweat and cigarette smoke. Bodies are pushing up against you from all sides and you're finding it hard to focus even with your heightened senses as the flashing lights make everything you see syncopated and distorted. Familiar hands are sliding down to rest on your hips as the person behind you guides you into a deliciously languid dance, and you find yourself nearly laughing as you think of what a bad time it would be to tell him that you're sort of ticklish.

" _Tonight we live in the moment_ ," was all he said to you before grabbing your hand with a grin and leading you through the labyrinth of street and back alleys to this place that seems almost more magical than any of the truly supernatural things that you encounter in your daily life.

He is whispering in your ear then but you can't make out the words over the pounding bass, and are only made aware of it by the movement of his lips against your skin and the heat of his breath. It doesn't matter either way, because one moment you are in the thick of the crowd and the next you find your back being pressed against the brick wall outside, and his lips meeting yours in a gentle but insistent kiss.

Your thoughts are reeling, spinning in a manner that reflects the movement of the celestial bodies dancing in circles in the night sky above, but still you find the courage to weave your fingers through his hair and tilt your head up to meet him.

It lasts maybe a moment or an eternity, and then you and he break apart to breathe.

You can see your breath in the cold air, and you startle as you realize that you hadn't even noticed it was cold outside.

This is a sobering thought, and the nagging worry starts off like an alarm in the back of your mind. You might have realized it sounded a lot like your parents' voices had you given thought to it, but at the current time your thoughts are on something else.

_Has anyone noticed I'm gone?_

You feel a hand on your chin and you look up. His eyes draw you back in. They seem to say to you again, ' _Live in the moment_ ,' and you remember how it had startled you when you saw them the first time; so different than anything you'd seen on a person, yet perhaps that was why you liked them so much. This time, you lean in swiftly and press your lips to his; it lacks the finesse that he had, maybe, but it is executed with no less enthusiasm.

In that moment, you are more than the almost-adult who existed in the shadow of his adopted brother, and wore his skin as if it didn't fit quite right. You are this person that he sees, the person that is kissing him now – and maybe one day you'll find the strength to be that person.

But for now, your heart is beating a tattoo against your rib cage and it his name that is on the tip of your tongue.

_Magnus Bane._

And tonight you suddenly couldn't care less whether they knew you were gone or not.


End file.
